


The Varley Solution

by weisswinds



Series: Varley Vestra Vichyssoise [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisswinds/pseuds/weisswinds
Summary: Hubert wrestles with conundrum and feels an emotion or two, Bernie loses some baggage.





	The Varley Solution

**Author's Note:**

> ok basically? im soft. 
> 
> a suggestion from a discord server that my Hubert and Bernie loving soul had no choice but to deliver immediately.
> 
> Long live Her Majesty.

Hubert von Vestra was not a man who acted in uncertainty. Thorough, methodical, exacting in his precision. Compulsively, almost obsessively so, in fact. It was always in the service of Edelgard, or to her benefit, so he thought nothing of the effort. It was unheard of for him to act for another's, probable, benefit unless it would in turn benefit Edelgard. Hubert von Vestra was not a man who acted out of kindness, or did favors, or even considered sympathy. Thus was the dilemma the head of the Vestra family found himself contesting with, scowling at the documents and notes neatly set out on his desk. 

The notes were his own, gathered over the course of their time as Black Eagles, the ensuing war carried out without their dear professor, and continued now that they had become the Black Eagle Strike Force. Naturally they were encoded. He was accustomed enough to his personal cypher to scan them with ease. Almost anyone else would find it quite unreadable.

The notes pertained to Bernadetta. More specifically her unique mannerisms, and the likely cause of such behavior. An overheard whisper there, a distantly observed conversation here, and of course his own interactions with her. Frantic speech under duress, leaping to conclusions, terror when faced with authoritative attention negative or otherwise, the rampant persecution complex, the list went on. Her own regular declarations of "Unmarriageable…! Worthless!" were telling enough. It didn't take a Vestra to connect those dots, nor to determine their source. 

With a short sigh through his nose Hubert stood and began his routine circuit of the office. The space formerly belonged to one of the cardinals, on the main chapel's second floor. It was a round room, most of the space taken up by a number of desks pushed to the perimeter. In the center was a circular bookshelf. Each desk was used for a different purpose, the change in locale helping him focus solely on the relevant task. 

Hubert made a slow lap around the office, examining his work at each desk as usual to see if any solutions came to him. He found himself unfocused, a worrisome and unfamiliar feeling but at least one he knew the reason for. The  _ Varley Situation _ , as he'd come to call it, unraveled any threads he tried to weave. 

"Ah," he murmured, retrieving the long cold cup of tea from the desk directly across from the Varley Situation. He preferred a strong blend that wouldn't lose flavor after running cold for this very reason. 

He focused on sipping the cold tea as he made his way back to where his mind never left. He set the empty cup on the desk beside it, one currently tasked with ferreting out the intentions of the few Kingdom nobles in their ranks. As Hubert sat his hand went to his chin out of habit, stroking and tapping intermittently. 

"Perhaps her mother would be amenable to a more permanent solution," he mused. 

Bernadetta's mother had been cooperative and capable following Count von Varley's house arrest. There was no love lost there, apparently. As he began writing the letter, Hubert allowed himself a chuckle. "This benefits Edelgard because I will be less distracted and focus properly on other matters." It was the circular logic of a child, though not necessarily untrue. In the end, the results achieved were what mattered. 

Hubert carried out the deed himself when the time came. The emperor's shadow stirred and rid itself of one more corrupt tumor. 

As he meted out the sentence Hubert considered it only right to deliver the news. He found Bernadetta in the greenhouse tending to a rather sharp looking plant in its own pot. Her aimless singing filled the greenhouse before he made his presence known. 

"Lala la la laaa, hm-hmm-hmhm la laaaa-"

"Bernadetta."

"-heURGH. Oh, its you. W-what did Bernie do this time?"

"Nothing. I have news of your father."

The shift in her expression and body language was near instant. She seemed to shrink into herself, nervousness turned to the sharp and shifting demeanor of one in survival mode. 

"He is dead," Hubert continued. 

Bernadetta's mouth fell open, silent. Hubert looked at her for a few moments before waving his hand in front of her glassy stare. She blinked rapidly, then looked at him again. 

"Oh, Hubert! Were you saying something?"

"Yes. Your father is dead by his own hand. It seems he saw that a man like himself had no place in the future Lady Edelgard will bring about. If you ask me he was right."

She stared again. Not in abject shock or terror, that much was clear. Hubert couldn't quite place the expression, though it certainly thoughtful, her eyes searching his. He prided himself on being a difficult man to read but Bernadetta was no fool. She was many times keener than she let on. 

"Did you," she began, coughed, and started again, "Mm. Nevermind. Can I tell you something?"

She sat on the stone edge of one of the planters, bizarre plant beside her. Hubert nodded. Bernadetta's gaze went to plants across the greenhouse as she spoke.

"I think about him a lot. What he'd say when we see each other again, wondering if he'd change with the world. It keeps me up at night. Would he? Should I forgive him if he did?  _ Could _ I? It wrapped up my heart like a Brigid flytrap crushing a bug."

"Strange analogy, go on."

"But now I don't have to. It's… It's over," she looked up at him, pleading in her eyes, "Right?"

"Undoubtedly."

A silence passed between them, broken only by the faint clamor of the monastery that seemed a world away. He turned to leave, stopped by her hand grabbing his sleeve. 

"Thank you."

He simply nodded, gently undoing her steel grip with his free hand before leaving. 

Two days later Hubert was surprised to see a parcel outside of his office door. It was marked with a single capital B. He was thankful for the privacy he opened the package in, for the gasp it forced out of him was unrestrained and joyful. There were two masterfully done portraits, one drawn and the other embroidered, depicting Edelgard and himself enjoying a cup of tea. 

Hubert von Vestra was not  _ often _ a man who acted out of kindness. 


End file.
